


Mostly Me

by Kikithehousemoose



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Body mutilation, Torture, inaccurate scientific experiments (because i have no knowledge), obviously trauma, this is basically one huge torture fic to establish whats happened to them in the verse im creating, vague incest but it doesnt have to be if you dont wanna read it that way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3928204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikithehousemoose/pseuds/Kikithehousemoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had lost their parents, their home, and thanks to the oppressive law enforcement, their dignity. When they volunteered for the experiments, all they had left to lose was each other. But they lost so much more, and sometimes they look back and wonder if it was worth the gain. </p>
<p>This is how the Maximoffs lost their identity and grew a new head in its place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hypothesis

**Author's Note:**

> {{I only have this like 40% planned out as I write it so please bear with me if it gets inconsistent or strange. I'm starting off with some ideas set in stone, but if you have any headcanons as to what might've been done to them, I'd love to hear them. Can't guarentee I'll put 'em in but eventually I'll have to run out of ideas.}}

The real issue was that everyone was looking to drugs. Even in the old, savage times, when magic was associated with religion and mutants could make a fortune as messengers of the divine, there was always some rumored potion or brew or magical fruit or item that would grant the wielder supernatural power. Now, in modern times, it was chemicals-- serums, injections, radioactivity, all shapes and sizes of poisons and gamma rays and big fancy machines and cryogenics. Most of the time it was successful in one way or another, but the main problem was that science changed. What was considered "acceptable" or even "plausible" in science seemed to be changing every decade, rendering some experiments irrelevant or obsolete knowledge right in the middle of their process. There were too many faulty tests whose consequences could have been avoided if they had just waited a few more years for someone else to come along and tell them why it wouldn't work. Chemical science, as ever expanding as it was, was also constantly caving in on itself, taking on an almost completely new identity and rewriting its own rules. And for someone who was actually trying to succeed, that just simply wouldn't do.

Any social observer knew that the real power came from within: from the mind, from the soul. Those who believed they were blessed were able to perform extraordinary feats in the name of proving their divinity; those who believed they were in danger somehow always found the strength to fight that they couldn't muster up later. Mutants discovered their powers through puberty, or trauma. How many stories he had seen where some poor little boy or girl had been backed into a corner by a big scary bad guy, or by a raging fire, or by a fearsome animal, and had miraculously developed powers that had helped him or her out of that very situation. The only drug involved in that was adrenaline, and that came from the mind. The mind, Baron Strucker knew, the mind would be the key to unlocking great power. In order to have the most powerful army, they had to harness the greatness of those with the most powerful psyche.

He had always known this, but it was not until their discovery of The Scepter that he would be able to truly test the legitimacy of his hypothesis. It had been exactly what he needed: a weapon charged by a great universal energy, enough that it could manipulate the mind, could summon or destroy at will. HYDRA was using them to power weapons, which was nice, but he knew that it was not enough. He needed to seize the opportunity and use the Scepter to fulfill his dream. The only thing he needed was an army of strong-minded, strong-willed people... and who to better fit the bill than youthful protesters? They had resilience that even some soldiers did not possess; they had a passion and a sense of unity that made them feel powerful, that made them sturdy. They had seen plenty of their own shot down, witnessing even their brothers or sisters' heads getting smashed into the pavement or cracked open by a baton. They had been forced to harden themselves to horror in order to retain their strength. They were perfect.

When he had List send out a recruitment call, it was just as he expected: they came pouring in. Desperate, hollowed eyes. Defensive, snarky scowls. Constantly clenched fists and nervous glances and hearts that beat strong in their weak, malnourished bodies. They had been offered food, shelter, and the chance to become something greater, the chance to be improved in order to protect their country. Not soldiers-- better than soldiers. And that wasn't a lie. Once they were done, they would be much better than soldiers.

If his hypothesis was correct, these children would conquer the world.


	2. For Future Reference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Maximoffs enter in with the crowd, and right off the bat they are singled out, just not in the way they expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {{Aaaand here comes the real start of my bullshit. Again, I'm kinda just going with what would seem like the most logical progression of events. But um yeah.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I totally forgot what Dr. List sounded like so his and a few others speech patterns might be totally off. Sorry!!!}}

Four hundred and thirteen. That's how many decided people volunteered for experimentation at the same time they did. Four hundred and thirteen patriotic youth who would only consider themselves truly homeless if their country fell. Four hundred and eleven people, plus the two of them.

They had spoken to the protesters specifically. It had started with infiltration; rumors and whispers going around amongst the crowds, someone hearing something from someone else about some kind of army on the people's side. Then it started becoming almost sought after; who was saying these things? Who was running the army? What were they really for? And then the men started calling down the guards, started speaking to the crowds with megaphones, making lively proclamations about how their passion was wanted, about how there was a group on their side and they had a chance to improve themselves to take their country back. It was enough to make them considerate. After that, they set up the visual propaganda; the posters over broken windows, the countless street art deprecating America's beloved superheroes, the bracelets and symbols scattered all over the community supporting the group behind the calling. 

It was night time. They were laying together on the dirty concrete floor of some unfortunate business that had been burned down, having crawled in amid the caving roof once they convinced themselves it wouldn't collapse on them overnight. As always, their limbs were intertwined, their heads close enough together that they could feel each others pulse, know every clench and shiver of their muscles. They had spent almost an hour in total silence and it was Pietro who spoke first.

"What if we did it?"

Wanda gazed up wearily, furrowing her brow. "Did what?"

"You know. Join them. The people that the Doctor always talks about, who want to fight with us."

She frowned a little. "No, you misunderstand. They want us to fight for them. They would be no different from us joining the military."

"You don't know that. Would the military call off the police to speak to us? Would the military even address us as people? Wanda, they shoot us with American weapons. The Doctor's people hate the American heroes as much as we do. Who says they are not on our side?"

Wanda looked at him and he looked back, their gazes holding and having a conversation of their own, just like usual. Talking through their eyes was just a part of their special language, and it was a crucial part of this particular conversation. After a moment, she whispered, "You're serious."

"I don't see why not. They ensure food, they ensure a bed. They will give us protection from the government and once they are done with us we can protect ourselves. We can protect all of Sokovia. We can be the heroes who kill men like Tony Stark."

He knew that Wanda would scowl at the name, because they always did. It was as instinctual as breathing.   
He saw her consider it for a moment, though her face hardly changed. After a second she asked, with less of an edge, "...Do you want to kill people?"

"I want to help people. I know that you do too. All we can do now is get little kids out of the riots and give them our food and blankets. But we could give them homes, Wanda. We could give them names to look up to and not names to fear. And if I am told to kill bad people in order to save good lives... I am willing to do that."

They held a stare again, and he could see the process going on behind Wanda's eyes. She was thinking about it. She was really thinking about it. Most of the past decade had been just about survival, and the past few years had simply grown from the survival of them to the survival of their people. And Pietro knew that she was just as passionate as he was, if not more. She screamed herself hoarse during rallies; she fought off anyone she could during a riot, took action whenever she saw an injustice. More often than not she initiated a fight and Pietro finished it, and even if it was sometimes the other way around, it was still her fire that Pietro burned off of. Without her, he would not feel the need to fight. He would have nothing to fight for. And even now, he trusted her to make the call. He could just feel in his heart that it was the best opportunity for them, but if Wanda would not join, neither would he.

Somewhere around ten minutes passed before he saw the process stop. She tensed a little and nodded, having made a decision. "Then I too am willing." 

And the choice was made.

***  
They arrived at the station that had been designated as the recruitment center. The area around it was magnificently untouched by the governments forces, and they found themselves free to walk right in and say they wanted to join. The recruitment was surprisingly simple: They asked for their names, their heritage, how long they had felt oppressed for, and if they had any "unique talents". So they had told them. But they only told them simply; Pietro was a good, fast runner, and Wanda was sensitive to people's emotions and could often say what they were thinking. Both of those were slight understatements, but if the recruiters knew, they didn't say anything. They simply nodded, attached some numbered receptor device right over their hearts, and they were escorted down far below what would have been visible from above ground.

It seemed like they walked forever through wide metal tunnels before they finally came to a large electronic door. A scanner popped out and read their receptors, going back in and opening the door with a few loud clicks and a swoosh.

The area was not as magnificent as they had hoped. It was a very large room, almost like some official discussion room, with a circular tiled floor and stairs leading up to a platform that was on the other side of the room. There were no windows, only artificial light, but they did not notice-- the first thing they noticed were the others, all young adults, all watching them enter with wide, expectant eyes before they looked away, either out of disappointment or fear. A few of the faces, they recognized; they had protested with them before, and even shared their sleeping space for quite a few nights. Still, it was an understood, unspoken rule to not talk; some people muttered amongst themselves to ease their nerves, but otherwise it was completely silent, everyone holding their breath in anticipation.

Wanda reached for Pietro's hand, and Pietro took it, giving it a squeeze.

There were some that entered after them, and soon they found themselves somewhere in the middle-back of the crowd, just anxiously waiting for any kind of instruction. For a while, it seemed like it might not come. Pietro tapped his foot restlessly.

Then, finally, there was the sound of heels tapping against metal. Everyone looked up as three men approached, one the obvious leader in front and the other two behind, carrying between them a long black case. The two got behind while the man stood in front, smiling down at the recruits. They recognized the man as Dr. List, the very man that had been the driving force behind bringing all of them here. His smile was intentionally not condescending; he acted like he knew them all personally. 

"I am so glad to see you all here today," he began, his voice sounding amplified in the circular space. "You are among the first to volunteer to be the beginning of a new future for Sokovia... a new future for the world. Here, you will be tested. Your best traits will be brought out of you: your passion, your willpower, your strength. You will be made new. You will be made better. And we want to help you be better." 

There was a soft swell of pride in the crowd as he complimented them, talking about how good they were going to be. List sensed this and smiled wider, gesturing to the men behind him.

They stepped forward and opened the case. The crowd could not see what was inside, and if they could, all they saw was blue. The Doctor was putting on gloves and picking it up very carefully, turning around for them all to see. 

It was a staff. An odd, curved scepter made of what looked like gold, with a curious, attention-drawing gem in the middle of the arc, a magnificent crystal radiating a mesmerizing blue. The crowd did not startle; instead, they were captivated by the spear, even craning their necks up to try and get a better view. Dr. List never stopped smiling as he carefully, methodically touched the tip of the staff on some shielded metal tab in front of him.

A flurry of blue static released from the staff, jolts of magic hopping and scurrying all across the room, making paralyzed everyone it came into contact with, starting their hearts and turning their eyes a hazy radiant blue.

When it reached Wanda, she barely had time to react, sucking in a breath as the jolt of power stung through her chest. At first she wondered if it had poisoned her-- her vision began to be blurred with a confusing blue tint, and her mind seemed muddled, senses and thoughts foggy and slow. She suddenly had trouble seeing the faces of the people around her; when she gauged the crowd, she saw they felt nothing. Not that they were unaffected-- they _were not feeling_ . She realized this and was startled, feeling her heart give another jump. She microscopically turned her head to face Pietro, wondering if he had been put into shock too, but a firm squeeze of her hand told her that he was not under the spell. Or even if he had been, he wasn't anymore. She was relieved, and felt her head begin to clear. 

The Doctor spoke to them again, almost a test. "Hail HYDRA." 

The crowd responded in unison, the twins barely having time to join them without being out of sync. "Hail HYDRA!"

Dr. List smiled, no longer friendly. "Very good. The Baron will be very pleased with all of you. Now you will split off into two groups and go to your bunkers, where you will shower and get your clothes. When you are done you will sleep in your cot; tomorrow the real tests will begin. Away with you."

The crowd began naturally splitting off, and Wanda followed the path they were supposed to take, making sure to keep Pietro with her. She had to force the both of them to not walk at any faster pace than anyone else, lest they be caught. She did not know what would happen if they were found not under the spell, but she did not wish to find out.

Pietro followed Wanda's lead and tried not to think about what their commands could imply. He had never personally experienced the other implications that bunkers and showers could hold, but he had heard secondhand of their alternate meanings, and as a boy it had terrified him. Now, they were underground, in a brainwashed crowd of desperate youth, being corralled to take showers and receive clothes and be put in cots. Against his will, a knot of anxiety formed in his chest, and Wanda's firm grasp was the only thing keeping him from trying to run away. Without making it obvious, he tried to steady his breathing, to convince himself that it was actually water and that Wanda hadn't sent them off into the "wrong group". He wasn't sure if he believed it. 

... It really was just water. They had a large shower space with countless faucets and drains and a curved tile floor.. but no curtains. No one seemed to mind: even without mind control, he wasn't sure anyone would mind anyway. Most of them did not have enough dignity left to feel any shame in their naked form; often if you wanted to defecate or bathe, it was anywhere and everywhere you possibly could. Being bigger, he had always tried to shield Wanda's body with his, knowing that people would more quickly go after her, but there had been quite a few passerby (mostly government officers) who had commented on or touched his body as he was trying to wash or piss. At first he had been humiliated, and then angry, and then he was beaten for pissing on an officers shoe and for Wanda's sake, he stopped caring. Now all he thought about was how grateful he was for an actual shower.

They all exited the showers around the same time and went to dry and get their "uniforms"; miscellaneous grey and white loungewear, almost discarded sleepwear. There was little hassle to find something that fit-- almost everything was too big. But nobody would have minded. They would have been happy to get good clothes.

They were not given a meal that night, but were told to go to their bunkers, that they would be fed first thing in the morning. The group did not respond. 

That night they went to bed on a hard cot, in the middle of the three-tiered bunk. Everyone else slept fairly naturally, and so after some silent debate they slept like they usually did, limbs intertwined, heads together, eyes closed tight and clasped hands saying so much. They didn't know what was going to happen, or what they had gotten into, but they promised that no matter what, they would stay together. 

***

The Baron von Strucker looked at the list of those who were awake. Fifteen. Only five of them had been observed as possibly never affected at all: Mattias Sykora, Shyan Lovel, Alexsander Tarnovetsky, and Pietro and Wanda Maximoff. The other ten followed soon after, most of them awaking in the shower. He looked at their listed "talents", mentally smiling to himself. Good. These would all be very, very good. 

"Are the subjects satisfactory, sir?"

He looked up, peering at the monitors with the faintest smirk. "Indeed. I have great plans for them."


End file.
